The Secrets of the Storm Clouds
by AliBlack
Summary: Six years later with the boys still stranded, the tribe has fallen into a routine. However, when a young woman is shipwrecked on the island it sets them into another upheaval and the Beast begins to plague them more than ever.


**_Title: _**_The Secrets of the Storm Clouds  
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**_Rating/Warnings: _**_Mature for language, violence and sexual situations._**_  
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**_Summary: _**_Six years later with the boys still stranded, the tribe has fallen into a routine. However, when a young woman is shipwrecked on the island it sets them into another upheaval and the Beast returns to plague them more than ever.  
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_I write this because I believe that after the degradation of order comes chaos, as seen in the book, yet I also believe that everything runs in cycles. Therefore after chaos must come order and chaos again and so on. After the boys lose themselves to the Beast, Jack gains control. to keep his control they create a normality and way of life. It is not democratic but a monarchy, the foundation and beginning of organized government. He will destroy to take control. He will build it up and it will fall. Such is the story of civilization.  
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**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own Lord of the Flies.__ However this is my plot._**_  
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**_Author's Note: _**_I do NOT have anything against homosexuality. Just thought I'd put that out there. Any opinions on this subject expressed in this story are exclusively for the purpose of the piece. Keep in mind that at this time (circa 1940's-50) this was she general view of the lifestyle. Once again, I neither condemn nor look down upon the life choice. _

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**Part I: **_The Catalyst_

The sea was calmer than it had been in days. Jack could see out for quite awhile on the horizon from his place upon the cliffside. Sea foam collected by rocky inlets and gentle rolling waves met the sandy cove he was overlooking. Endless blue stretched out until forever until somewhere it met the sky and came stretching back above him. Jack surveyed the island that was sprawled out before him, its varying colors and textures a stark contrast to the uniform ocean.

Something on the sea caught Jack's eye; a mar on the clean slate of the waves. The dark wood stood out as it rocked over the water, coming closer to the island with the tide.

"It's a boat," Roger voiced as they stood together on the outcropping.

"If you'd even call that a boat." Jack was stone-faced as he observed it. The vessel was small, too small to be sailing on the ocean, too old to survive much longer on the violent waves of the past week's weather. Were it not for the island it was heading toward, Jack speculated the rowboat wouldn't have lasted the week.

"Is anyone even in it?" Roger wrung his hands around his spear as he tried to make out the tiny form moving on the ocean.

"Doesn't look like it." Jack finally glanced over at his companion after the long reverie he had spent his morning in. "No one's sitting in it from what I can see. Can you even imagine being out on the ocean in that piece of shit? No wonder it's empty." He looked back to the boat to watch it's drift pattern, trying to figure out where it would land.

"What do we do?"

Jack was scanning the waves with a practiced eye, years of island living allowing him to notice subtle differences in the currants. It was by passing a rip currant, thankfully, which would have made the study much more difficult had the boat been pushed back out to sea. "Might as well check it out."

Roger crouched, balancing himself by leaning on his spear. "Looks like it's coming in slow."

The red-head made a small grunt. "Where are the others?"

"Most of them are back at Castle Rock," Roger said. "A few of the boys went to get fresh water, and others are hunting."

"And Maurice?" Jack's eyes darted to Roger for just a moment.

"Last he told me no one's seen Ralph in days, but he's out scouting now anyway."

Jack's nose wrinkled in frustration before he nodded. "The boat will be close by the time we get down to the cove." Jack began to backtrack into the jungle, along the path to the sandy cove below. Roger stood and jogged along to catch up.

The path went by quickly, familiar with the many times they'd traveled it. The jungle wasn't as lush on this side of the island, the effects of the fire still evident. Undergrowth was retaking the mountainside in the years since but it couldn't hold a torch to the long-since wild part toward Castle Rock. There was a clear line where the fire had stretched to and burnt out with the help of natural barriers and light rains in the night. The Fireline, as the called it, was close enough to the mountain that it left more than enough jungle to hunt. Jack would have been beside himself in aggravation had he burnt the whole of the island and not been able to hunt. It was one of the biggest mistakes they'd ever made in his opinion. Not that he'd wanted Ralph any less, but the means had weighed heavier over the years.

The two young men emerged from the trees onto the white beach of the cove where nearly seven years beforehand the whole group had gathered at the sound of a conch. Jack paused, watching the boat rock ever closer to the sand, not twenty yards from the extent of the waves lapping at the shore. Now that it was closer, the wear on it was more apparent, a few boards were splintering and others didn't seem up to keeping water out but those were luckily high on the hull. It wasn't more than twelve feet long – definitely not seaworthy – and there was no one sitting in it, that was confirmed on sight. The red-head moved forward slowly after driving his spear into the sand. By the time the water rushed over his toes the vessel was close to settling into the wet sand. The young men moved into the surf to grab it, Jack ordering Roger to take hold of the bow with him and pull it up to shore. When they reached the edge, however, neither was prepared for what they found. Roger spent a second too long in shock and the waves rocked the rowboat into him. He fell, sputtering as sea water filled his mouth, but he recovered quickly using the boat to pull himself to standing, the water not reaching past his thighs.

"Come on," Jack said. "Bring it up before we look closer." They dragged the craft up onto the sand, making sure it was properly secure against the waves. Once it was set, they both glanced back into the boat with curious eyes. It was definitely breathing, they noted.

"We haven't seen a girl in years," Roger whispered, a strange greed in his voice. She was asleep on the bottom of the rowboat, which was why they hadn't immediately noticed her. She looked malnourished, her face unnaturally gaunt. The shirt she wore was tied beneath her breasts, possibly due to the heat and it allowed them to see the pattern of her ribs etched along her side. Jack deftly hopped into the boat and crouched next to the young woman. He tipped her face up and studied it. Under normal circumstance she might never have been described as a show stopper but to Jack and Roger she was Aphrodite; a vestige of some long thought dead part of their past. A real live woman.

Jack let her head roll back to the side before exploring the rest of her, fingers sliding along her cheek and dipping down into the hollow of her neck. Her skin was moist and warm, and had a red tint from the sun that might have been much worse had the weather not been so temperamental the past week. He paused as he reached her shirt collar, looking down at the way the two open buttons exposed the tops of her breasts, something he had rarely seen in his years back in England, nor had taken the time to notice at his age.

"Well, touch them then." Roger said suddenly, startling Jack. "What'd the older boys used to call 'em? Her…tits." Jack looked down at them again. "That's what they were always after, the way they talked about it when the professors weren't around."

Jack shot him a warning glance with an eyebrow cocked. "That's not all they were after, I'd wager," he said thinking of the nefarious after-dark activity at Castle Rock. Maybe hunting and dancing around a fire had satisfied most for awhile but as the years went on the boys had slowly turned to men; men who lusted after more than the hunt. He never much approved for them to seek each others company, but never outwardly forbid it either. It wasn't something anyone talked about, nor was it a habit for more than a few boys, so Jack was quite eager to pretend he knew nothing of the matter. It should have been punished but he understood the feeling of longing and the lack of women was extenuating circumstance, he figured. Most had discovered, through one way or another, the wonder of a closed fist and that kept them satisfied. Looking back down at the woman, the red-head traced his fingers along the curve of her upper body timidly. He'd known enough from his civilized days to know that this was what his lust was meant to be directed at, though he didn't know the logistics of it. He had, like Roger, heard enough of the older boys from their school to know of that, all their talk of 'tits and asses' though Jack had never understood what would be so appealing about an ass, male or female.

He remembered the schoolyard, as each boy obeyed the professors in school and then unleashed their wrath in the free time. A boy three years older than himself, scrawny and weak was being taunted by the older boys. They called him 'nancy' and 'poof,' things Jack hadn't really understood at the time but the way they were said it sounded bad. As their verbal taunts turned to physical violence a number of other students came to their aid, kicking and spitting as the instigators continued their verbal assault. They left him after a minute; too soon, Jack had been considering joining in and was disappointed at the sudden finish.

"What did he do?" he had asked a tall sandy haired boy walking back to the school building past him.

He had stopped and looked down at Jack, a young boy at that point, not more than eleven. "He's a faggot," The young man said bluntly.

Jack looked back at the lump of defeated flesh that was the so called 'faggot.' His eyebrows knitted together. "What does that mean?"

"It means he gets his jollies looking at blokes instead of girlies like a normal guy." The sandy haired boy laughed. "Hopefully we beat it out of him. That's what should be done to the lot of 'em."

When he walked away Jack had went cautiously toward the boy, looking at what they had done. He just lay there, shaking. Jack was envious of the older boys, wanted to feel what it was like to hit someone. He had punched his wall in anger many times, but the wall always won. What would it be like to hit something with a little bit more give? Something that felt it? Something that actually had a will of its own?

So his crime was to 'look' at other boys? Jack was scared. He had looked at other boys; he had looked at the sandy haired boy when he talked to him. The professors say it's rude not to look at someone when you're addressing them. He couldn't go the rest of his life not looking at anyone who wasn't a girl for fear of being beat in the schoolyard like that boy. But he had said 'jollies' too. So as long as you didn't really enjoy looking at them it was okay. Did he like looking at girls? Well he hardly saw any but he guessed they were okay looking. Girls were supposed to be pretty. Maybe they were.

The boy was crying. Jack looked at him with disgust as his reddened face scrunched up and twitched, shiny with tears. He had been publicly beaten for a radical feeling. Jack could see the humiliation in his ugly face. It was pathetic, him just lying there not bothering to pick himself up, crying, and wallowing in self pity. He thought of what the sandy haired boy said. He had done something wrong and they punished him for it. He deserved it. Jack had run up to the boy and kicked him hard in the stomach.

And now as Jack looked down at the young woman this memory came back to him and a flood of new understanding washed over him. He understood now the difference between 'looking' at men and 'looking' at women. Her skin was softer, body curvier, features more delicate, whereas the men are rough and hard-bodied. It was the distinctions between male and female that made her pleasing to the eye, the unfamiliarity. He understood now because he wasn't just looking, he was enjoying.

"Well aren't you gonna do it?" Roger said impatiently and also much too loud. Jack pulled his hand away from the girl as he sat up.

"Would you keep it down, you'll wake her." He snapped quietly. "I want to look at her a bit more first." As he looked back down his eyes immediately caught a set of brown ones looking back up. The young woman had her mouth open but didn't say anything at first.

"Well if you won't than I will," the black-haired boy was saying as he stepped up and reached his arm over the edge of the boat to hoist himself in. He stopped when he saw she was awake.

"Who are you?" she whispered up at Jack.

He pulled his shoulders back and puffed his chest out proudly. "Jack Merridew. I'm the chief of this island."

The young woman stared at him for a moment, bewildered, before pulling herself up and twisting to look at the island. What a sight it must have been for her. Adrift on the sea, most likely, for who knows how long and to wake up and gaze out of the boat to see the brilliant greens and vibrant browns of a jungle paradise; at least it was to Jack so she would surely see it. Any sane person would. Of course there would be the random anomalies like Ralph but even he saw a paradise at first. Jack followed her line of sight with his and took it in for a moment. The spray from the waves beating against the boat peppered his back and the wind across the island had the trees rocking back and forth like the surf. It would surely be the most wonderful thing she'd ever seen, Jack thought. It was home.

The young woman turned back to look at him, eyes studying his painted face and chest, what could hardly be described as clothing covering his nether regions, and bare feet caked with dirt and sand. She turned to Roger and did the same before looking back at the island paradise once more.

"Who are _you_?" Jack asked and she jumped meeting his eyes once more with wide-eyed panic. Tears had already begun to stream down her face. Jack frowned but said nothing, waiting still for her answer.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, this time in a true voice rather than a whisper.

"I asked you what your name was." Jack was stone-faced once again and Roger, with the slow yet deliberate movement of a practiced hunter, moved to get his spear, lying near his chief's a few feet back up the beach. The girl's eyebrows knitted together.

"But I-"

She was cut off as she felt a sharp point press into her neck. She sucked in a deep breath, caught off-guard as she hadn't noticed Roger moving until he was right beside her and ready to kill. Jack glanced over at the black-haired young man for only a moment. "If your chief asks you a question, you answer."

"Mae," she gasped. "Like the actress, Mae West, only my surname is Littleton." Roger pulled the spear back and lent on it instead.

"That's better."

Mae cupped her hand to the wound, a small puncture that was barely bleeding, mostly just shocked at the threat.

"Years, to answer your question and you'll be sure to address me first from now on, I'm sure."

"Years?" Mae choked on a sob and began to cry harder. Jack was surprised but didn't show it. How could she be upset on his wondrous island? It was the most amazing place in the world; no rules, no adults, only his word as law. What could be better? Living back in Britain with all those regulations and restrictions? Surely not. She looked up suddenly. "There must be some way to get out of here. There must be some way of attracting someone's attention." She clutched at Jack's wrist desperately but he pulled back out of her grasp.

"Like a signal fire?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! Yes, exactly. I'm sure we can-"

"No," Jack said immediately and her smile dropped.

Roger laughed. "Listen, love, you see that mountain up there?" Mae looked over her shoulder and nodded. "The way it's all real sparse up until a line right about there?" She nodded again. "Yeah well if no one saw that forest fire stretching up a hundred feet at least then there ain't shit you could make that they could find us with."

Mae's mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound came out. She looked to Jack almost for confirmation of Roger's words. His eyes were studying the Fireline instead of meeting hers. "They'd have been able to see the flames for miles and miles. That was back around when we first ended up here." He glanced back at the young woman. "Good thing. We're better off here anyway."

Roger suddenly turned his head and looked toward the jungle. A bird called once again, the noise he'd heard when Jack wasn't paying attention. "That's the hunting group. They have something." The red head jumped out of the boat and went to his spear, pulling it out of the sand sharply.

"Come with us," he ordered, still walking toward the jungle path. Just at the tree line he stopped to look back at Mae. She still sat in the boat, tears drying fast in the heat. He looked at Roger who immediately took his spear into both hands and backtracked toward the rowboat. Mae's eyes widened and she scrambled out of it and ran, legs wobbling from lack of use, toward the young men not wanting to face Roger's wrath again.

"Where are we going?" she asked when she had caught up and they were heading down the path, Jack ahead, Roger behind, and her in between. Jack pressed a finger to his lips before letting out a shrill whistle that sounded like some kind of tropical bird. After a moment it was returned with the same call, the one that Roger had heard a minute before.

"They're windward," Jack said back to his companion who nodded, and the red-head lead them in the direction the noise had come from.

"Must be back at the Castle Rock from the sound of it," Roger said.

They walked in silence for many minutes before anyone spoke. It was Jack that said, "We're going to Castle Rock, just so you know. It's where our shelter is. You'll be staying there if you'd like to join my tribe."

"Join your tribe?"

"If you don't," Roger said. "We'll have to kill you."

Jack didn't look back but assumed Mae had been quite startled. "It's a rule. If you're not with us you're against us. We can't have you hunting our game and trying to steal our fire. Not much of a choice anyway; a girl couldn't survive on her own on this island." Mae said nothing. "If you join the tribe we'll even protect you from the Beast."

"The Beast?" The young woman asked. Jack pulled back a few vines hanging low over the path.

"There's a Beast that lives up on the mountain. There are many things on this island that can be very dangerous. I am chief because I keep us safe." Jack lifted one of the larger vines so that Mae could pass under it. As she passed, having to skirt by just inches from him, he whispered, "You _do_ want to be safe here, don't you?" She looked up at him, beginning to look sick with the shock if it all and nodded.

They were back at Castle Rock not long after, Jack and Roger had spent the time describing the way they navigate the island. It was easy now that they've lived there for so long, specific areas seemed distinctive after awhile and the strength of the sea smell did much for inland distance. Since they never knew North or South, the boys described direction by the island geography. Heading windward meant you were going toward Castle Rock, since the wind always hit harder there. Mae stayed quiet much of the way.

Jack was normally greeted when he returned to the Rock, but on this particular day the boys were further interested because of his company. The eyes raked over Mae; some with curiosity, some with something a little different. She looked around as they passed through the middle of a camp of sorts. There were many boys and young men in various stages of undress, quite a few completely nude, going about with chores or activities. Some stopped to stare openly while others, mostly the older ones carried on as they shot glances over. Mae's face was flushed as she tried not to stare. She'd never seen a man without his shirt on, let alone in a completely natural state.

Jack seated himself on a large level rock, asking a boy what the hunters had brought back. The boy said they had a small pig and some birds. "Are you hungry?" he asked Mae. Her eyes grew wide and she nodded. He motioned for her to sit in on the rocks at his feet and when she hesitated Roger grabbed her arm and pushed her down hard. "You won't have to go through that every time you know, if you'd just listen to what I say." Mae nodded tearfully. "So how did you end up here then?"

She looked up surprised for a moment. "Um…" she began so that Roger wouldn't hurt her while she collected her thoughts. "Our ship was sinking. That storm last week. We all got in the rowboats." Her face contorted as she sobbed. Jack cringed at the unsettling sight, anyone crying looked just so _ugly_.

"You were alone?"

"No," she choked out. "There was one of the ship's crew with me. He was sick the whole trip, I remember. And it just got worse and worse. Then two days ago he…" she covered her mouth. "Oh God… he died. I watched him die." She looked up at Jack. "I just want to find my family."

"Your family is either dead or as good as dead by now," Roger whispered in her ear which made her tense up and press her balled up fists to her mouth in anguish.

Jack shifted on his perch. "You won't find the island to be so bad. We have fun here, more fun than back in England. You'll learn to love it." He looked down into her wide eyes and nodded. "We'll even have a feast tonight in honor of your arrival. We will eat the pig and dance in the firelight and yell loud up to the moon. You'll see the fun we have here."

Mae looked up at the two men. Although nothing could quell the pain of losing her family and being stranded on an island without hope of rescue, somehow she knew the world wasn't over. If the tribe of boys had been there for years than she supposed life must go on and she was thankful at least that she wasn't totally alone. She almost brought herself to smile.

And then another young man Roger and Jack's age sprinted into the camp and up to the chief. "He's seen him," he shouted. "Maurice spotted Ralph."


End file.
